Innocente
by Swamy
Summary: They would never question the innocence of their relationship.


**Note:** This idea came to my mind last month, I wanted to write about bamon UST but I'm having troubles picking the right scenarios/moments, so my beta though that posting it could be of help,maybe having the first bit published will force my mind into working the rest out, maybe one of you will leave a review that will light the bulb in my head. And in the worst of cases you've got some bamon to keep the shipper needs at bay. Please, try and leave a review.

#

"I can't believe you talked me into watching this. I should call a lawyer and check if this can be considered a crime against humanity because I'm telling you, it totally should," he laments for the umpteenth time as Gaston kicks the beast making him roll along the edge of the wall surrounding the castle on the TV screen; because he can't let her know he's actually liking this silly thing. His reputation would be ruined forever. Bonnie must be too bored with his attitude to dignify him with an answer, and he's actually glad because Belle is calling out for Gaston to stop and he really wants to see how this is going to end. He's a sucker for romantic endings, okay?

"Fuck, you idiot!" he mutters angrily while the beast groans in pain as the knife sinks into his back, "You should have killed him when you had the chance!" He says just a little too emphatically for someone uninterested. Bonnie is probably feeling merciful, he thinks, risking a look her way. In that moment, her head falls against his shoulder, the regular rhythm of her breath tells him she's been sleeping for awhile. Damon adjusts her head before it can slip off his shoulder, rests his back against the cushion of the sofa and turns his body just enough so that she'll be more comfortable, before silently enjoying the rest of the movie.

When Celine Dion start to sing the main song of the Disney animation he slips one arm under Bonnie's knees and lifts her up gently, carrying her up the stairs and into his bedroom bridal style. Her eyelashes tickle the column of his neck and one of her arms reaches for his shoulder in her sleep. It makes him grin, the familiarity of it, the way she can entrust herself to him so intuitively beyond reason or even consciousness, the raw softness of this bizarre relationship that makes him sit on a sofa on a Friday night to watch magic furniture singing. Yet, it's not nearly embarrassing enough to make him stop.

Damon opens the door of his bedroom with a minimal effort, all the while looking down at Bonnie to make sure that she's not going to wake up from his maneuvers.

"First you castrate my virility by making me watch fairytales, then you even have the nerve to fall asleep on me," he murmurs against her forehead, lips lightly brushing the honey-like skin of her. "My revenge will be terrible," he decides with a smile as he approaches the bed and lowers her down, carefully.

Bonnie just rolls on the side, reaching out for a pillow to hold to her chest. She's always so independent, so strong, chronically looking out for everyone, too busy with her good deeds to take something for herself, ask for comfort or tenderness, but in her sleep her walls are lowered and she'll hug anything in reaching distance. On the other hand, when she was too annoyed with his cheating to play another match and he couldn't get himself to shut up, they fell asleep on his bed and he woke up at the first light of morning to find her clinging to his arm, or holding on to his chest – it made him feel like she was anchoring his sanity to the ground, like she was guarding him from the ghosts of his past. It felt so intimate, so painful, he slipped away from her right before consciousness could catch up to her and they were forced to accept what they were becoming, whatever it was that they were becoming for each other.

Bonnie bends one knee high, almost hooking the leg over the pillow. The movement pulls at the fabric of her old sweat pants. The elastic is weak and loose and easily lowers under the waist line. The strip of skin she displays is not that large, but he can see a beauty mark right above the hidden curve of her ass. His mouth waters, instinctively he licks his lips as his eyelashes tremble so very slightly. His pupils grow large and darker as he tilts the head to the side like he's trying to figure out what's so important about that patch of skin that his muscle are tensing up. The picture popping up in his mind seems to be shot in HD. He presses his tongue on that delicious patch of skin, feels the texture of her beauty mark under its tip and the softness surrounding it. Suddenly he's dying to know what that would feel like for him, what it would feel like _for her_. Maybe to answer that question, maybe to twist the knife a bit, she moans in her sleep and quiets down. There's a jolt of electricity going down his spine, the stirring of his cock in his jeans is beyond his control, the blood flows down so quickly he can feel himself growing against the restriction of his pants, and he must force himself to take a step back, scared he might actually do something he should not. Should _never_. Because this is his Bonnie, because this is his best friend, and he's not supposed to want these kinds of things. He's not supposed to become hard as he watches her sleep innocently, and he blames it on the fact that he hasn't gotten laid since Krystal. And though Bonnie is just his buddy, she's still beautiful and maybe this is just his body letting him know he should go out and let loose.

Yes, that's it. That's the reason, he decides.

#

Waking up in Damon's king sized bed is always a great way to begin the day though, as she opens her eyes to find herself alone in it, not as good as when she opens her eyes to the crook of his neck or his covered chest. It makes her feel like she's more than herself, larger than the power she holds inside; and yet, it's pretty damn good. The silk sheets are so soft, the mattress just firm enough that her body is perfectly aligned and she wakes up restored and energized.

She doesn't know how she got into his bed. It happened often enough since they got stuck on the other side that it's not a big deal anymore. Even Stefan and Caroline have gotten used to their symbiotic relationship to doubt the honesty of it. She stretches herself lazily as she lies on her back. The cropped t-shirt rides up her stomach and she abandons her arms above her head, on the pillow. She'd really like to go downstairs and grab a cup of coffee, but the bed is so comfortable she can't bear to leave it just yet.

Bonnie smiles rolling on her stomach, her nose brushes the smooth texture of the sheets and she inhales deeply, with the harmless intent to relax and maybe steal a few more minutes of rest. She's almost falling asleep again when her brain catches up with the smell surrounding her. It's Damon's skin, a unique mixture of cedar wood and bourbon, something unapologetically male that invades the most intimate parts of her mind the way Damon does with his presence into her safe spaces. And now that every defense is lowered and she feels safe it's easy for the idea of him to slide down the middle of her chest to her lower abdomen, melting her rationality and awakening her body. She can feel her skin beginning to flush, feel the quickening beat of her heart pulsing into her belly, the light stimulation of her nipples pressing against the mattress and the warmth swelling up fast between her legs. For one tiny, brief, violent moment she wishes for Damon's hand inside her harmless cotton panties, can almost picture his fingers toying with her sex, and his irreverent grin on his devilish mouth as he does so. Her darkened eyes would look up to him as she pressed her mouth into the pillow to stop herself from moaning out loud and he would make it a point to have her do so. Her legs open as her lap rocks down trying to reach for some friction. The stimulation gives her a short moment of relief, before the blood clouding her mind flows down enough to let her realize what she's doing. She's aroused, thinking about her best friend, thinking about Elena's boyfriend, while she is cocooned in the softness of his bed, a shelter he offers her in the same honest way he shares his secrets with her.

Bonnie groans rolling to find herself on her back, trying to push away the image of him, and yet she's in his bed, surrounded by the smell of him and it's no easy task. She's beset on all sides, though he never meant to put her in this position. Because Damon can easily throw an innuendo at her but they both know it's just a knee jerk on his part, his way to show off his charm and power. They are friends, just friends, almost brother and sister, really, and she's not supposed to grow aroused and wet between his sheets. It's just that it's been so long since she's received any kind of sexual attention, and her life is so difficult, so frustrating, that her body is instinctively looking for a way to release its coiled energy, and the only outlet it could find, in a state where she is in perpetual control of herself, was to send a signal in the moment between sleep and wake. Damon's smell just happened to sneak in on her in the worst moment possible, just like its owner likes to do, it doesn't mean any more than that.

Truly, it doesn't.

#


End file.
